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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26723017">Puppet Strings are easy to cut</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimMessenger/pseuds/GrimMessenger'>GrimMessenger</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Doctor Whump, Guilt, I say they’re original characters but you can pretend it’s whoever you want, Immortal Characters, M/M, Multi, Some death, dub con, i didn’t specify, some gore, the doctor has issues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:59:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26723017</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimMessenger/pseuds/GrimMessenger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor is in a relationship with some unnamed characters. He feels really guilty for hurting them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Original Character(s), The Doctor/The Master, The Master/The Doctor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Puppet Strings are easy to cut</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Short thing I did for a sprint. There’s no beta and I didn’t do that much editing.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was getting to be too much. Day after day they said they loved him while he stood there in dust barely holding a smile to his face and said it back.</p><p>“I love you” he said with a smile held delicately at both ends by a string he had to keep pulling. </p><p>“I love you” he said as the world kept spinning despite his loss of gravity. Or perhaps, finding of it. Because sometimes it seemed like everyone was walking on the very water he was drowning in. Sometimes it seemed like they floated through life and he was stuck brutally on the ground in reality and everything just kept on spinning. How can the world spin around him when he’s stuck in the past? In himself?  </p><p>“I love you” he said even when he didn’t because it wasn’t their fault it was his but he was started to resent them all the same. Everyday he would see them and he’d pull the strings on himself like a marionette to show them what they wanted to see. What they have been seeing for the past 500 years. A puppet show of his own making. </p><p>He was losing it ever slowly. The strings were becoming worn out and couldn’t pull as hard as they used to without them snapping. </p><p>He was growing to resent them.</p><p>He loved them. And yet. He couldn’t be around them much anymore and the puppet show with its strings were exhausting to do everyday and every night sometimes.<br/>
He killed them years ago (and they came back how they always come back with the carefree stride of an immortal) and he’s paying the price through his servitude. Through his increased submission as he brought himself to his knees for every whim they had. Love, affection, comfort, all straining on his strings as he bent over backwards to repay the debt he owes. </p><p>It’s getting to be too much. </p><p>He cries to The Master one day. And he comforts him with soft touches in places he hasn’t wanted anyone to touch in such a long time.<br/>
Well, he wanted them. But it was never equal was it? He was never deserving of wanting something. And now as The Master takes him while he’s crying he allows himself to think for a moment that they’re equals and this is him helping out. </p><p>It happens again. Continually as he curls into himself in the tardis at night knowing The Master is going to come again. </p><p>He wants them to leave. Resentment is something he shouldn’t be allowing himself when this is his punishment. He should be thankful for them. And yet…</p><p>The strings are snapping one by one each night The Master cuts one anew. Until he’s nothing left but a rag doll. And they start to notice it. They ask him what’s wrong and he can’t say because they shouldn’t be burdened with that knowledge. His mouth lifts up trying to remember where the strings were and he knows it doesn’t work when they look more concerned. </p><p>He’s tired. He’s really tired.</p><p> The tardis is open one day. The Master is gone per usual in the mornings and The Doctor wakes up and lays there for as long as he can before bringing himself up to go through the doors.</p><p> And there they are. All bloody and broken. Limbs where there shouldn’t be and glazed over eyes where there was once excitement and affection and love and they’re dead again and he can’t-how can you resent someone and miss them this badly? He craved their touch and their whispers in his rag doll ears and all he heard was silence. Silence and a hand wrapping around his waist. Silence and a head pushing itself next to his ear and a hand brushing away the hair that rests there. </p><p>“Isnt it lovely?,” The Master says.<br/>
And he doesn’t know what to say except a dull nod in response. </p><p>There’s a pleased note in his ear then. Bringing him back to reality for a moment to realize he’s being guided through the tardis hallways and back to bed. Arms wrapping around him and hands touching him where they shouldn’t be. </p><p>A movement throughout his body sends him careening back to reality to realize he’s trembling.</p><p> He moves his face to The Masters chest and tucks his knees up. Somehow a childish and human attempt to make himself small enough that the pain can’t find him. A hand brushes through his hair again and he’s listening to the reassuring tone of The Masters voice. </p><p> “Shh it’ll be okay. I took care of them for you. You won’t have to deal with them anymore,” he said. </p><p>A weak protest forms in his mouth ready to defend them and say that he didn’t want them dead. </p><p>He loved them. </p><p>But The Master interrupts.</p><p> “Its okay. I know you wanted them gone. They won’t bother you anymore.”</p><p>And guilt wraps around him like a blanket because he did secretly. And he shouldn’t have. All they ever did was love him like they couldn’t do anything else.</p><p>And his eyes are closing. </p><p>Mind seeking asylum in sleep while The Master holds him closer.</p>
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